The Perfect Match
by SallyJAvery
Summary: Having helped his best friend secure the affections of the love of his life, Draco Malfoy, a handsome young wizard of one-and-twenty, realises he has a knack for matchmaking, and determines to use his talents for the good of the Wizarding World. Post-Hogwarts AU, loosely based on Jane Austen's 'Emma'. Dramione, Gin'n'Tonic, NottPott.
1. 1: The Devil makes work for idle hands

_Hello hello hello - so this started as a drabble and ended up taking on a bit of a life of its own! The story is based on Jane Austen's 'Emma', but I'm hoping that it can be followed even if you're not familiar with that (do let me know if not.)_

 _It takes place in a Harry Potter AU that isn't toooo far removed from canon, the main difference being that in order to introduce Tom Riddle Jr as a non-antagonistic character, I have made Grindelwald the aggressor of the Wizarding Wars._

 _This won't be a very long story (probably 4-5 chapters, 10k words in total), but hopefully it will be rather fun! Thank you to **Aurorarsinistra** for whom __the initial drabble idea (a Frank Churchill/Jane Fairfax) was intended as a birthday gift. HAPPY BIRTHDAY have a ficlet instead._

 _ **Disclaimer** : The world and characters of Harry Potter belong to J K Rowling. This is a work of transformative fiction written for no profit._

* * *

 _.~* **The Perfect Match** *~._

 _Chapter One: The Devil makes work for idle hands_

* * *

Draco Malfoy, handsome, clever and rich, with a comfortable manor house and a refined disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the Wizarding World with very little to distress or vex him.

Well. Not entirely true. He was frequently beset by Theo's endless ridiculousness, Potter's complete refusal to simply GO AWAY and the absolute disaster that was his apparent friendship with Hermione Granger, but really, his was a charmed life.

(There was also the small and now largely irrelevant matter of his family's implication in numerous of Grindelwald's more heinous crimes during the Wizarding Wars, but really, Draco was willing to put that behind him if the Ministry was, and look, here's a very generous donation to St Mungo's, so really the whole unsavoury business is hardly worth mentioning.)

In the wake of the Wizarding Wars Hermione Granger, eminently sensible witch that she was, had taken the generous settlement doled out to her by the Ministry (in exchange for not suing them for their complicity in Grindelwald's persecution of Muggleborns) and invested in a picturesque estate on the outskirts of Salisbury, which just happened to abut the lands that Draco had recently inherited from his father.

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had not had the smoothest path to friendship - indeed, their differing circumstances had found them on opposite sides of the War (but please, no more of that, have you not heard about the Malfoy scholarship for war orphans?) - however there are some things you can't share without becoming friends, and it turns out that volunteering to rebuild the library at Hogwarts following the frenzied destruction of half the school by Grindelwald's followers is one of them.

Now, with her living just over the crest of the hill, it was not at all uncommon for Draco to answer the door of an evening and find himself face to face with a great cloud of windblown hair, often with some terrible, lumpen attempt at a hat crammed on top, and peeking out from beneath would be Hermione Granger's irritatingly pink-cheeked features, arranged in an expression that was eager and hopeful and just begging for tea. And if Draco pouted and growled and feigned indignation at the frequency of these house calls, then it was fair to say that his heart wasn't really in it.

One could in fact argue (though Draco would be absolutely incensed were you to do so in his hearing) that he rather welcomed Hermione's tendency to drop in without prior notice, especially in the wake of Theo Nott making the rather sudden (or so Theo thought) announcement, having lived with Draco at Malfoy Manor since they graduated from Hogwarts four years previously, that he was in love with Harry Potter and would be moving in with him forthwith.

* * *

 **Theo** : _[striding dramatically into the breakfast room]_ "Draco, I have something I have to tell you."

 **Draco** : _[without bothering to lower that morning's edition of The Daily Prophet]_ "Probably best to get it off your chest then."

 **Theo** : "I know that it will shock you to your core -" _[Draco folds down the top third of his paper to frown over it at Theo]_ "- but for some months now I have been having a passionate affair with Harry Potter."

 **Draco** : _[weakly]_ "Oh...you have?"

* * *

In fact, having harboured a longtime fraternal affection for Theo, Draco had, once he noted the obvious attraction between his best friend and the loathsome, odious, but nevertheless hopelessly charming hero of the Wizarding War, spent a large portion of his energies in Not Entirely Opposing the Match.

Needless to say, when Theo made his grand revelation Draco had felt more than a little pleased with himself. That it left him to mope around his Manor alone (his mother having elected to spend most of her time at their house in the South of France) was simply an unfortunate side-effect of his own prowess as a matchmaker.

Anyway, one evening in late November, when Draco had just admitted a rather more bedraggled than usual Hermione to the Manor and watched her tramp snowy footprints across the recently polished marble floor, the conversation turned sharply upon the recent happiness of their mutual friends.

"It was surprisingly nice of you not to fuck it up for them," Hermione mused, as she cast a perfunctory drying charm over her hair.

Draco wrinkled his nose, considering whether or not to mention the mess in the hallway, and finally decided against it. "Much as I despise Potter, he seems to have somehow stumbled upon the trick of making Theo disgustingly happy." Draco examined his fingernails, and then sighed, "And I find I can't really oppose that."

"Darling Draco bears everything so well." Narcissa Malfoy stepped noiselessly into the room, prompting both Draco and Hermione to jump about a foot in the air, "But, Miss Granger, he is really very sorry to lose dear Theodore, and I am sure that he will miss him more than he thinks."

"Mother–" Draco tried not to betray his level of consternation at her unannounced entrance "–must you do that?"

"Do what, dear?" Narcissa frowned slightly at her reflection in one of the large mirrors that graced the walls of the parlour, and flicked one platinum curl so that it hung more satisfactorily.

"Just...pitch up like this." Draco waved his hand vaguely in the air. "What if I had been, you know, _entertaining?_ "

Narcissa glanced between him and Hermione. "But you _are_ entertaining, and I hardly think that Miss Granger minds –"

"Granger doesn't count," Draco sniffed, ignoring Hermione's scowl.

"Well," Narcissa said doubtfully, "that doesn't seem very polite, Draco -" Draco grimaced as Hermione threw him a triumphant grin "- but in any case, I apologise for dropping by with no prior notice. I just wanted to see how you were getting along, now that Theodore is no longer here."

"We were just talking about how wonderful it is for the pair of them," Hermione piped up. "It must be so nice for Theo to be living with –"

"Someone who doesn't mope about glowering at everyone all the time?" Draco supplied helpfully.

"Oh dear, do I glare at people?" Narcissa said, seeming rather upset. "I honestly don't mean to, we were raised to project an air of _froideur_ and it's really terribly difficult to –"

"Mother, you cannot possibly think I meant _you_ ," Draco said. "Granger here enjoys a joke at my expense; I merely thought it would be expedient for me to make it before she could. After all, we always say exactly what we like to one another."

It had in fact taken one episode of screaming obscenities at one another over the top of a rare edition of _Magickal Beastes of the Atlantean Grasslandes_ –

* * *

 _ **Hermione**_ _: "MALFOY ARE YOU A FUCKING IDIOT? ATLANTIS IS CLEARLY A HISTORICAL -"_

 _ **Draco**_ _: "OH I'M SORRY, GRANGER, BUT I SEEM TO REMEMBER HIPPOGRIFFS STILL BEING ON THE SYLLABUS FOR CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES, AND ALSO, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOUR HAIR -"_

* * *

– for them to realise that they got along much better if they simply gave voice to their frustrations with each other.

Draco, for his part, was inclined to think that Hermione took rather a great deal of liberty with this particular arrangement, since she was one of the few people who seemed able to find fault with him (he was after all a trustee of the Foundation for Werewolf Rights), and she never hesitated to tell him so. _Without_ even having the decency to modulate any criticism with a thick layer of sarcasm like Theo usually did. However, as disagreeable as he found this, Draco knew that Narcissa would find it doubly so: it would hurt her terribly to think that her precious only son was not thought perfect by everybody (did you know he was on the Council of Human-Merpeople Relations?)

"Draco knows that I would never flatter him," Hermione was saying, still wearing that unbearably earnest, winning smile that inexplicably seemed to make people like her. "I only meant that it must be so lovely for Theo to be living with Harry and not having to keep the relationship a secret anymore."

There was a pause while both Draco and Narcissa stared blankly at her. "A secret?" Narcissa echoed.

"Granger," Draco said patiently. "You are aware that I basically engineered the whole thing, aren't you? I have to say," he continued airily, "I'm really rather thrilled by my success in the matter."

Hermione gave an unattractive snort, reminding Draco of just how easy it was to be absolutely nothing more than friends with her. "Well, while they might be the only ones who thought the relationship was anything close to clandestine, calling it a 'success' supposes some endeavour on your part, Malfoy, whereas it seems to me that all you did was manage to avoid completely ruining it for them."

"I -" Draco spluttered, "You - how dare -"

"Quite." Hermione turned on her heel and started up the stairs. "Tea?"

"That's totally unfair," Draco said, following her up to the solarium. "Maybe I can't take _all_ the credit, but I let you bring Potter over here with you, _and_ I refrained from calling him a useless wanker in front of Theo."

Hermione said nothing, merely raising one, highly sceptical eyebrow.

"Alright, fine," Draco glanced over his shoulder to check that his mother hadn't followed them up for tea. "I might have called him a useless wanker a couple of times, but I _wanted_ to call him an insufferable cunt, so I think it showed admirable restraint on my part."

"Genuine self-sacrifice." Hermione lifted the lid of the teapot to sniff at its contents. "Lapsang souchong, dear god your elves are good, I hope you're paying the-"

"Trained in France," Narcissa appeared on the other side of the room, causing both Draco and Hermione to jump, again.

"Mother _please_ ," Draco sighed.

"Sorry darling," Narcissa said, before turning to address Hermione, who was attempting to clear up the tea she had spilled. "You know, Draco almost never thinks of himself if he can be doing good to others. I am just so very sad -" this accompanied by a mournful expression "- that by facilitating such a perfect match he has left himself without his dearest companion."

 _See_ , Draco mouthed at Hermione, but she only rolled her eyes. "Very well, Mother," he said aloud. "But given that I am now quite bereft of Theo 's highly diverting company to drive me to distraction on an hourly basis, I need a hobby of some sort, and it would appear that I have a knack for matchmaking."

Narcissa pursed her lips but sipped her tea without argument. It was left to Hermione, glancing uneasily between the two Malfoys, to ask the question. "Which poor unfortunates do you have in mind?"

Draco smiled as he settled his cup back on its saucer. "You know how Pansy and I have always been terribly close?"

Hermione gaped up at him, her tea forgotten. "You cannot be fu-"

"Pansy is a ... _unique_ young witch, and I have a great - ah - _affection_ for her." Narcissa swirled the contents of her cup, obviously choosing her words carefully. "However, if you want to help her out why don't you ask her for dinner, Draco darling. Much nicer than foisting her on some unsuspecting young wizard. I'm sure she'd appreciate it, and Miss Granger can join us too."

"Oh I'd be _thrilled_ to," Hermione said, with a significant glare at Draco. "And I agree, much better just to have her over for dinner, rather than making yourself an accomplice as she chooses her next vict-" she coughed, her eyes flicking towards Narcissa. "Her next _suitor_. I would imagine Pansy Parkinson can take care of herself in that regard."

"Dinner it is," Draco smiled. "I'll owl her directly."

* * *

 _ **A/N** : Look out for an update early next week, and do let me know what you think!_


	2. 2: Absence makes the heart grow fonder

_**Chapter Two: Absence makes the heart grow fonder**_

* * *

In spite of his status as a young man of significant accomplishment, Draco Malfoy would nevertheless be the first to admit that sometimes his schemes had their flaws (yes he would, actually, don't argue). However, he was more often than not spared the trouble of doing so by virtue of the fact that he counted one Theodore Aloysius Nott as his closest friend.

"Even by your standards, this is a terrible idea." Theo threw himself down in the comfiest chair in Draco's private parlour, closely followed by Potter, who, like the glorified urchin he was, elected to perch on the armrest and lean his hip against Theo's shoulder.

Draco, in a demonstration of admirable restraint, declined to comment on the potential damage to antique furniture.

"Firstly," he sniffed to Theo, "I would like it noted that I object to your tone. And secondly," he gestured pointedly at the pair of them, "clearly I do have _some_ good ideas."

Theo blinked, surprised, and behind his glasses Potter's eyebrows shot up. "Sorry," he said, leaning forward and resting his hand on Theo's thigh. "Are you trying to take credit for getting _us_ together?"

"I told you," Hermione said resignedly from where she was sat in the second-comfiest chair, and Draco felt a wave of annoyance that he was both subjected to being friends with these people _and_ relegated to a seating option that was quite literally third-rate.

Theo was still opening and closing his mouth in a passable impression of a concussed Grindylow, so Draco took the opportunity to scowl at Potter. "I fail to see how you would have successfully managed to court Theo had I followed my better instinct and raised the wards against you."

"Unbelievable." Potter sat back, resting his arm across the top of the chair behind Theo and shaking his head with a small and deeply irritating smile. "At best, you didn't actively sabotage us."

"I vividly remember you calling Potter an upstart ragamuffin with a suicidal hero-complex after the first time Hermione brought him here." Theo had affected a scowl to match Draco's, but the corner of his mouth quivered with humour.

"In the interest of fairness I should probably point out that _you_ regularly call him worse," Hermione sighed. She was sideways in her chair with her legs dangling over the arm as she flicked through one of Draco's charms magazines, and he wondered vaguely whether Gryffindors were Sorted owing to their inability to sit properly.

"That's as maybe," Theo was saying. "But in my case it's both flirtatious _and_ affectionate."

Potter cocked a teasing eyebrow at Draco, who fought to suppress a shudder. "Definitely not," he growled. "And yet _despite_ my finding you wholly objectionable, I still managed to frequently contrive to be out or busy when you visited, _and_ made sure the elves left you in peace."

Theo opened his mouth to respond, frowned, and closed it again, glancing up to share a look with Potter. Hermione had set the magazine down in her lap and was staring at Draco.

"Right," Theo said eventually. "Right - well - _fine_ , maybe you weren't entirely unhelpful, but that still doesn't mean -"

"Pansy is a very different kettle of fish to Theo," Hermione said carefully.

"Kettle of - Granger, _where_ do you come up with such -"

"I believe it's a Muggle aphorism, darling," said Narcissa, stepping through the french doors from the garden and making them all jump.

Draco was the first to recover. "Hello, Mother. How unexpectedly lovely to see you."

"Mmm," Narcissa hummed, squinting at him. "You need a haircut, sweetheart. As do you," she said, turning to address Harry, who went scarlet under her assessing gaze. "And you too Theodore."

From the corner of his eye Draco saw Hermione wince in anticipation, but Narcissa's gaze drifted across her before she made another quiet "hmm" and bent to inspect the _aspidistra venenata_ in the corner of the conservatory.

"How are your schemes coming along darling?" she asked, and Draco paused for a moment before Narcissa turned to look at him expectantly, and he could be sure that she wasn't addressing the plant.

"Very well, actually," he nodded. "I was just about to lay out my plans for this evening's soirée to this company of miscreants."

Theo gave a groan and Hermione wrinkled her nose, swivelling in her chair so that she could lean forward. "Are you entirely sure that this is a good idea? You don't think that you're giving Pansy the wrong impression by -"

"By _what_?" Draco asked. "By throwing a party with the specific intention of introducing her to some hand-picked and highly eligible wizarding bachelors?"

* * *

 _ **Harry**_ _: "Did you know Malfoy had invited Ron to this party at the Manor?"_

 _ **Theo**_ _: "That doesn't sound ominous at all."_

 _ **Harry**_ _: "Neville too."_

 _ **Theo**_ _: "Clearly he's having a breakdown. We're invited as well right?"_

 _ **Harry**_ _: "Yeah. The owl came this morning."_

 _ **Theo**_ _: "Excellent. Wouldn't want to miss the carnage."_

* * *

"I had thought we were going to have her over for dinner first?" Narcissa asked, frowning as she peered closely at the dark purple aspidistra blooms.

"Well," Draco demurred. "She was so delighted by the invitation that I thought I should capitalise on her excitement and seize the opportunity as quickly as possible before -"

"Did you tell Pansy that was what you were doing?" Potter asked, his glasses flashing in the afternoon sunlight as he attempted to give Draco something he presumably imagined was a stern look.

"Do I strike you as some sort of fool?" Draco asked tartly. "Of course I didn't inform her that the purpose of the evening was to set her up with someone. I happen to like my balls where they are." His eyes flicked guiltily towards his mother after this pronouncement, but Narcissa had stepped outside again and was now talking to one of the peacocks on the terrace.

"What _did_ you tell her?" Hermione asked. She had abandoned her magazine entirely, and her gaze was surprisingly intent. Draco could feel heat rising up the back of his neck under her scrutiny, and huffed his annoyance.

"That I would be simply thrilled if she would consent to be my guest at an intimate evening celebration -"

"Jesus Christ," Potter muttered, resting an elbow on Theo's shoulder so that he could drop his face into his hand.

"Are you nuts?" Theo asked, and Draco bristled with indignation.

"I'm trying to do a nice thing for one of my olde-"

"We're talking about Pansy," Theo said. "Have you been the victim of a recent obliviation? You've made it sound like you're inviting her for dinner _with you_ ," Theo said. "Do the words 'Yule Ball' mean nothing to you?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort and then had an uncomfortable recollection of Pansy sticking to his side for almost the entire evening, like a frilly pink limpet. Quite aside from anything else the colour had been terrible on her, washing out her fair skin and making her look almost vampiric.

It had been years since he'd even thought of the Yule Ball, and he suddenly remembered that he had, quite accidentally, ended up dancing one of the formal numbers with Hermione. She'd looked surprisingly fetching in periwinkle blue, as he recalled, and he slid her a sidelong glance to find that she was also looking at him. When their eyes met the tops of her ears turned pink and she dropped her gaze.

Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably. "It's been years since Pansy and I have even _seen_ one another, so I'm sure she won't have the wrong impression. And if she has I'll be quick to disabuse her of it."

"Mmm." Theo gave a sceptical nod. "I wonder if she's put a wedding gown on hold at Twilfitt & Tattings yet?"

Draco heard himself splutter with horror, and on his other side Hermione seemed to be choking on a sip of tea. Potter sprang up and smacked her several times on the back before turning a glare on Draco, who shrugged.

"Even if she has, I've invited plenty of people so it's not like she'll even be able to get _near_ me."

"Who, out of interest?" Hermione asked, her voice emerging as little more than a croak.

"Ron -"

"Useless," Theodore remarked, prompting Potter to transfer his scowl to him from Draco.

"Neville -"

" _Worse_ than useless," Theo grinned wickedly at Potter, whose eyes had narrowed to slits behind his glasses.

"Blaise -"

"Gay!"

"Justin Finch-Fletchley -"

"Gayer!"

"Roger Davies -"

"Less charisma than a gurdyroot."

"Adrian Pucey -"

At this Theo gave such a loud bark of laughter that Draco turned away from him completely, addressing Potter and Hermione.

"Then I've invited your cousin Tom, of course -"

"Wait," Potter frowned. " _My_ cousin Tom?"

"Yes," Draco rolled his eyes impatiently. "Do keep up. He did some business with my father, and I thought I should, you know, continue to show patronage, or something."

"He's rather dashing, if I remember rightly," Hermione said, and Draco felt his stomach give a strange little twist. It was rather a long time since breakfast; he must have been growing hungry. "Though," Hermione went on in a musing tone, "something of a cad. Wasn't there some scandal that he was mixed up with in London?"

"Ginny would know," Harry said. "She's been in London the last couple of years."

"Oh," Hermione brightened suddenly. "She's staying with Luna at the moment, we should invite them both!"

" _We_ ," Draco repeated scathingly. "Of course. Not like it's _my_ party or anything -"

"At the moment it's more you setting up your own personal gay bar," Theo ducked out of the way of the stinging hex that Draco sent his way. "Unless you _want_ Pansy thinking that your engagement is a _fait accompli_ -"

"Fuck," Draco murmured. "Fuck, you really think she might -"

"Invite Daphne as well, there's a good chap." Theo had leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "She's always a laugh once she's got a couple of butterbeers in her."

Draco sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I guess I had better let the elves know. And send some owls out."

"Will the elves be alright?" Hermione asked. "It's rather a lot to put on them at short notice." She frowned. "You _are_ paying them now, aren't you Malfoy?"

Theo shook his head disbelievingly, his mouth dropping open as he stared at her. "It's like you've never even _met_ a house elf. I'm surprised they haven't tried to assassinate you."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I am getting my life in order and finally updating stuff. I actually cannot believe I thought this would be finished in the summer, I am a useless idiot. Thanks everyone for reviewing, following etc., I'm very grateful and I won't keep you waiting anywhere near as long for chapter 3._


	3. 3: Familiarity Breeds Contempt

**_Chapter Three: Familiarity Breeds Contempt_**

* * *

The announcement that the Master was intending to throw an elegant soirée, to which the cream of wizarding society was to be invited, had sent the Malfoy elves into something of a frenzy of preparation. Draco found himself reminiscing fondly about the days (yesterday) when he had not been beset on a near-hourly basis by requests to approve selections for decor, drinks and canapés.

"I wouldn't mind so much," he told Hermione, "if it weren't for Theo and Harry's preposterous notion that Pansy is going to treat this as some grand overture towards her on my part."

"Mm," she hummed noncommittally. "But then, you did rather bring that on yourself, didn't you?"

Draco scowled. It was all very well to have established a friendship with Granger out of the goodness of his heart, but if she couldn't even be relied upon to take his side in matters that were clearly causing him a great deal of distress -

"You know, I couldn't believe what Harry was saying about Tom the other day." Hermione apparently had no regard whatsoever for Draco's suffering, since she now saw fit to launch into a conversation about Potter's entirely tiresome cousin, who by the sounds of things was a thoroughly -

"I mean, you have to admit that him being disinherited by his mother's family for being a halfblood, and by his father's for being illegitimate, must have been quite awful."

"Well," Draco huffed. "I really don't think -"

"Honestly," Hermione went on. "It's a wonder that he's managed to achieve so much when the odds seem to have been stacked against him at every turn."

"Oh yes," Draco scoffed. " _Such_ a wonder that he's managed to survive everybody always being so concerned for his welfare. 'Poor brilliant Tom, such a struggle against adversity.' Merlin forbid that we should ever be starved for news about him," he muttered. "I wish Tom Riddle all the best, but the very mention of him bores me to death." He was flipping viciously through the selection of serviettes that his head elf, Mimsy, had asked him to choose a favourite from, and therefore missed Hermione's raised eyebrows as he continued to grouse: "Sweet Salazar, this is exhausting. Pansy's lucky I'm such a generous friend, I doubt there are many people who would go to so much trouble to secure the happiness of a former schoolmate."

"You're just so charitable," Hermione remarked drily.

"Thank you, Granger," Draco graced her with a smile, pleased to have his efforts acknowledged. "It actually means a lot to know you recognise that." Hermione blinked several times, looking uncharacteristically confused, before she smiled uncertainly back at him, her cheeks turning pink. Draco frowned slightly, wondering if there might be something in the Manor that she was allergic to and that was causing this reaction, which he had been noticing more and more in the past few weeks. Really though, he reasoned, if Granger had allergies then she was more than capable of sorting them out for herself; he absolutely didn't have the time to spare worrying about her.

Making a mental note to ask the elves to ensure that his mother's plants were moved out onto the terrace, and that air-purifying charms were employed in all the rooms of the Manor, Draco heaved a deep sigh. "Anyway, I'm rather inclined to the opinion that these patterned serviettes are a bit gauche, but they may well be pleasing to the masses. What do you think?"

Hermione's smiled disappeared abruptly. "Are you asking my thoughts as a representative of the masses?"

"Well, we can't all have the rarefied Malfoy taste," Draco mused, flinching when Hermione slammed the book she had been reading down on the table. "What?" he asked, perplexed, as she grabbed her bag and mittens from the chair next to her.

"You're a twat," she snarled, before she stomped out of the room. Moments later, Draco heard the front door close with a resounding crash.

"Oh dear," Narcissa said from the corner of the room, prompting Draco to nearly leap out of his chair with surprise. "That was really rather insensitive of you, darling."

"Mother!" he yelped. "How many times must I -"

"Yes, yes." Narcissa waved a hand. "Only I had it from Iris Greengrass that you were going to be announcing your engagement to Pansy Parkinson at the part next week and I just wanted to check that I hadn't missed -"

"For the actual sake of - _no_!" Draco leaped up from his chair, so frustrated that he even went so far as to tug at his perfectly coiffed hair. "The reports of my engagement are a gross exaggeration that -"

"Oh that _is_ a relief," Narcissa smiled. "Only I'm quite attached to the notion of your future bride wearing the Black tiara when the two of you marry, and I'm fairly certain the Parkinsons have their own."

Draco gave himself a moment to process this. "Well," he said eventually. "I'm glad to know _that's_ your primary concern. Am I to take it that you would prefer me to form an attachment to a witch who doesn't come with family heirlooms? Only you know that would probably preclude the vast majority of pureblood -"

"In all honesty, darling, I am perfectly content for you to marry whomsoever you choose," Narcissa said, patting his hand fondly. "But if I can be spared an argument over jewellery choices then so much the better."

"Great," Draco managed a strained smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

 **oOo**

The day of the party, Draco woke with a sour taste in his mouth that he ascribed to having allowed himself to be rather carried away by Theo's enthusiastic 'testing' of the cocktail menu the evening before.

* * *

 **Theo:** " _You're about to host the biggest party since the end of the war, and you expect me to trust your taste when it comes to the drinks?"_

 **Draco:** " _What is this? Why is it that everyone has a problem with my taste all of a sudden?"_

 **Theo:** _[with Significant eyebrows] "Methinks the baby doth protest too much. Tell me, Draco, who else has expressed their reservations about your -"_

 **Draco:** " _Firstly, it's 'Lady,' and secondly, it's none of your -"_

 **Theo:** " _By all means, Lady Malfoy, please continue to prove my point."_

 **Draco:** " _..."_

* * *

"Ugh," he groaned into his pillow. "Mimsy!"

The elf materialised at his bedside instantly. "Yes, Master. Mimsy is bringing the hangover potion, and the Master's post, and -"

"Thank Merlin." Draco grabbed the bottle from silver tray that Mimsy was holding out, ignoring the stack of parchment that looked, quite frankly, incredibly boring as he tipped his head back and downed the potion in one. "Pass me the _Prophet_ would you? You can take the rest of the post back downstairs, I'll look at it later."

"Yes, Master," Mimsy's ears flapped as she bobbed her head. There was a slightly pregnant pause before Draco glanced up from the paper, pleased to realise that he was no longer quite so offended by the winter sunlight that was cutting its way between his bedroom curtains.

"Mimsy," he said slowly. "You're hovering."

"Yes, Master." Mimsy's bright blue eyes, large even by house-elf standards, widened even further. "Master has a guest."

"Well then tell them to go away," Draco sniffed, looking back to the _Prophet_ and flipping to the announcements section. "The party doesn't start until seven, so they must be at least -" he squinted at the window "- four hours early."

"If Master is to begged of his pardon," Mimsy squeaked. "But is Miss Granger."

"What is?" Draco was distracted by his attempt to assure himself that Pansy hadn't snuck something into the paper about an imminent engagement while simultaneously pretending that was absolutely not what he was doing, so it took him a moment to process what Mimsy was saying. "Granger?" he barked, his head jerking upright. "Granger's _here_?"

For some reason Hermione had made herself scarce over the past few days, and though of course Draco had been thrilled to be spared the annoyance of her strident, bushy-haired presence while he tried to plan his party, he had found the sudden solitude of his evenings had taken some getting used to.

"Bugger it all," he growled, lurching out of bed and feeling suddenly somewhat queasy. The hangover potion must have been expired, he reasoned, as he summoned a towel and stumbled towards his bathroom. "Tell her I'll be ten minutes."

"Mimsy will get Miss Granger another coffee," the elf nodded.

Draco was almost through the bathroom door when he stopped, spinning on his heel. "Wait. Mimsy. _Another_ coffee?"

"Miss Granger has been here for two hours already," Mimsy declared, rematerialising by Draco's elbow. "Is saying not to worry about waking Master."

"But what has she been doing?!" Draco cried, now frantically attempting to shower and get dressed at the same time.

"Mimsy is showing Miss the preparations for the party, and then Mistress Narcissa is arriving and they is -"

"Fucking hell, Mimsy!" Draco yelled, flinging a drying charm over himself and then desperately attempting to smooth his hair back into something resembling good order. "Why the fuck would you leave her alone with my mother?"


	4. 4: The Better Part of Valour

_Chapter Four: Discretion is the Better Part of Valour_

* * *

Hermione was in the solar when Draco finally made it downstairs, rolling his cuffs back and giving his hair a final check in the hallway mirror to ensure that his carefully-styled approximation of bed-head looked absolutely perfect - he didn't want her thinking that he had spent too much (or indeed any) time on his appearance. For some reason Granger seemed to have an absolute aversion to personal vanity, and while Draco completely one-hundred-percent didn't give a fig for any opinion but his own, he thought it a marked demonstration of his sensitivity and thoughtfulness that he would thus strive not to offend Granger's sensibilities.

He arranged himself casually in the doorway, sliding his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers and leaning at an angle that he knew showed off the lean lines of his body to their best advantage.

Not that it mattered, of course. But best to keep up appearances.

Granger seemed unaware of his presence, affording Draco a moment to take in the way the afternoon sunlight slipped down the pert curve of her nose (much more delicate than Pansy's) and settled in the really rather lovely hollow of her collarbone. Draco had just caught himself wondering, bizarrely, what it would feel like to stroke his finger across that spot on Granger's smoothly suntanned skin when she leaned to sniff at his mother's african violets, which the elves had inexplicably left indoors.

"Don't!" Draco barked, abandoning his attitude of nonchalant elegance to leap forward and wrench Granger away from the plant.

"Draco!" she yelped. "What the fu-"

"Your allergies," he explained, speaking slowly as though to a particularly idiotic child. Indeed, he could see that Granger's cheeks had turned bright pink, clearly from proximity to the flowers. He was going to murder Mimsy, his instructions had been very -

"I don't have allergies," Granger frowned; an obvious lie, given her breathlessness and the way she was blinking really rather a lot. Draco could even feel that the skin of her arms was very hot, and that she was trembling lightly against him where he was still holding her away from the plants.

"Aha," he coughed, relinquishing his grip and stepping swiftly away, his hand lifting reflexively to smooth back his hair. "Yes. Well. That's what you say but, I mean -" he gestured up and down at her "- _allergies_ , clearly."

Granger lifted a brow. "Right," she said, setting her coffee cup down on one of the many side tables that seemed to proliferate throughout the Manor. "Okay, well." She turned towards him and opened her mouth as though to say something, before her frown returned and she seemed to turn even pinker, her eyes fixed on his chest area. Draco glanced down and realised that in leaping across the room he had managed to pull open his poorly-buttoned shirt to the bottom of his sternum.

He gave a cough and hastened to cover his dignity. "So what brings you here? You've been terribly busy the last couple of weeks, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

"Yes," Granger said. "I - that is, what I mean to say is. Um." She scrunched up her nose, looking uncharacteristically, and rather adorably, perplexed.

"Come on Granger," Draco folded his arms to distract himself from this unwelcome observation. "Spit it out, whatever it is. I've only got the party of the year to finish off arrangements for."

"Oh, of course," Granger nodded. "No, it was just, er, now that you're finally up, that is, I just wanted to ask…" Her voice trailed away, and for a moment they simply stared at one another.

"What?" Draco asked. His own voice, for some reason, sounded somewhat hoarse. His heart had started beating erratically, and he could feel his hands sweating. That hangover potion was definitely expired.

Granger blinked rapidly again, and then appeared to give herself a little shake. "Nothing, I mean, not _nothing_ -" she smiled, and rolled her eyes "- just, um, whether you've given any more thought to whether you're going to have a seating plan for tonight, because I really think that if you're determined to keep your distance from Pansy then you should."

"That's - you were -" Draco shook his head slowly to clear his confusion. He wasn't sure quite what he had expected Granger to ask him, but it hadn't been that. "Well," he pronounced finally, "Pansy isn't going to think anything of this." He spoke with a confidence that he didn't exactly feel. "She must know that I've absolutely no desire to settle down, even if Witch Weekly will insist on putting me at the top of their Most Eligible Bachelors list now that Potter's taken himself off the market."

"Have you not?" Granger's voice was casual, but Draco thought he could detect an odd note to it as she turned away from him again, and concluded she must still be suffering the effects of the african violets.

"Granger, I'm sure if the right witch came along then I'd have no trouble in changing my mind, but as it is I am quite committed to the lifestyle of a single wizard-about-town."

"Right," Granger said, sounding oddly forlorn. "I mean, yes, that makes sense." She gave a sharp nod, then looked up at Draco with an unnervingly wide smile. Her eyes were oddly bright, he realised, almost teary. "Well, that was really all that I came over to say, so I guess I'll just see myself -"

"You're leaving already?" Draco asked, bemused and inexplicably reluctant to see her go.

"I've been here for an hour," Granger flashed him a wry smile. "You can get quite a lot done when you try getting up before noon, you know. You should give it a go sometime."

"I am not to be blamed if Theodore will insist on trying to give me alcohol poisoning," Draco groused. He was feeling strangely fractious. It really was just like Granger to ignore him for a week and drop in just long enough to ask him discomfiting questions about his personal life before once again leaving him in the lurch.

"Theo was here?" Granger gave him a searching look. "Did he say anything about -"

"Nothing of consequence," Draco sighed. "As per usual, his chief interest remains being as irritating as humanly possible, and going on _ad nauseum_ about Potter and how rewarding it is to finally admit your feelings for someone -"

"Argh!" Grange made a strangled noise, and Draco looked at her in alarm. "Are you quite well?"

"Fine!" she squeaked, backing towards the door. "I'm just - I need to go and get my dress for - for the party!" She whirled away from him, hair bouncing merrily in a cloud of rich brown. "I'll see you tonight!"

"See you later!" Draco called after her, utterly nonplussed by Granger's bizarre behaviour. He stayed standing there for a minute or so longer, before squaring his shoulders. There were still a number of arrangements to be made before the evening's revelry could commence, but before that -

"Mimsy!" he yelled. "What did I say about my mother's plants?"


End file.
